still living life in the dark
by alinaandalion
Summary: Every time she thinks she has her feet firmly planted on the ground, some curve ball manages to find her and wreck it all over again. Even now, when she looks at Regina and wonders what it would feel like to touch her cheek, trace her fingers over soft skin. Her legs start to move restlessly, that old urge to run flaring up from her toes straight through her heart.


"_She holds and I do not break away, and that is something after all. We lie there, tethered to each other by the fragile promise of our fingers while the night grows bolder. Unafraid, it opens its mouth and swallows us whole."_

_- The Sweet Far Thing by Libba Bray_

* * *

Three weeks. Three weeks of travel on a pirate ship and no land in sight. Hook keeps up a steady mantra of "only a few more days and with a strong wind," but Regina has started to recognize those words for the empty assurances they are. Of course, it doesn't help that they were blown off course four days earlier by a violent storm.

Emma sighs as Regina comes up behind her. "You'd think we'd have gotten there by now."

"It seems that even Hook's grand boat has its limits," Regina says, her mouth twisting into a wry grin.

Turning, Emma leans back against the railing, propping herself up with her elbows as she rolls her eyes. "God, the way he goes on about it. At least, when he's not making really creepy passes at me. And my mom."

"I think he means those as compliments."

"Yeah, not interested." Emma frowns and squints against the sunlight. "I just want to get there. All this waiting and I can't—I don't like not knowing where Henry is."

Regina inhales sharply and looks away, digging her nails into the loose leather pants she dug out of a chest in the hold. Of course, of course Emma wouldn't think anything of it, not when Regina has been on the outside for so long now, unable to even talk to her son, much less have any idea where he was during the day. Not that it matters. Not now, not when he is a world away and she doesn't know anything about what is happening to him, if he knows they're coming for him, if he knows that he is loved beyond measure, if he is _safe_.

She can't think past that, beyond _safe_, because anything else—the magic burns up through her and Regina forces it down until she can look at Emma again.

"Shit," Emma mutters, her eyes widening as she stares at Regina. "Shit, I didn't mean it—god, Regina, you know I say the dumbest stuff and I don't think and that wasn't what I meant—"

"Save your breath," Regina snaps. She moves to the railing, leans heavily on it, breathes in the salty air. "I know you didn't mean it like that."

"Do you?" Emma says softly. "Because you are his mom, too, Regina. In the end, more than me, even. And, I'm…I'm really tired of fighting with you over him. He's _ours_. Okay?"

"What if that isn't enough?"

"What, do you still want to kill me?"

Closing her eyes, Regina curls her fingers tight over the wood railing and remembers soft lips, quiet moans, blonde hair twined through her fingertips. Something new, something untouched and wild and dangerous.

"I think we both know that's no longer the case." Regina tilts her head to the side and smiles slightly at Emma.

Emma looks down, scuffing the toe of her boot against the deck. "Yeah, about that. Is this going to be a thing now?"

"What do you mean?"

"I just need to know what's going on with you," Emma says as she moves in closer. "Because—we have to find him, Regina. And that's all I can think about. And I need to know what's going on in your head because I can't… I can't do this on my own."

Regina wraps her arms across her stomach, presses them in tight as she says, "I don't know. I didn't exactly plan any of that."

"Do you want it to happen again?" Emma's fingers graze Regina's cheek, soft and sure and warm, and Regina can barely breathe.

"I don't know," she whispers.

"Okay." Emma smiles and pulls back, leaning over the railing. "We can figure it out. But you have to talk to me."

"All right," Regina says, and it is and it feels like it changes everything.

Behind them, there's the sound of hurried footsteps then retching, and Regina turns to see Snow bent over the railing on the other side of the deck, David hovering beside her. Emma raises her eyebrows at Regina and starts across the deck to her parents.

Gold's words stop Emma in her tracks. "So is it a prince or princess this time, Your Majesties?"

Regina sees it before she understands, sees how Emma's spine stiffens and her fists clench, and _of course_ Snow is pregnant. Regina can barely choke back the laugh bubbling up inside her; she watches Emma whirl around, look at her with pleading eyes.

But Snow speaks first. "Emma, I'm sorry, we were going to tell you. I just didn't want—"

Shaking her head, Emma runs, disappears down inside the ship, and Regina watches her go.

* * *

When Regina shows up in the doorway of the cabin, Emma rolls her eyes and slumps back further into her bunk.

"What do you want?" Emma asks, crossing her arms over her chest.

Regina just walks inside and shuts the door; she stands there, quiet for a few very long minutes as Emma starts to jerk her knee up and down in agitation. Eventually Regina shrugs her shoulders and gives Emma an exhausted smile.

"Your mother didn't mean to hurt you."

"Wait, are you for real?" Emma can't help it; she laughs, the sound bubbling up through her aching throat and it burns. "Are you really going to stand there and pretend that you're on Snow White's side? How fucking stupid do you think I am, Regina?"

Eyes narrowing, Regina stiffens and says, "I am _not _taking her side. But that doesn't negate the truth of the matter, which is—"

"That she lied," Emma says softly. She's feeling it now, the walls closing in. "Maybe not with so many words, but it's a lie of omission. They should have _told_ me when they knew. And they didn't."

"It's not that simple."

"It is. You don't know what it's like, what happened when…" Emma shakes her head. "Whatever. I guess it doesn't matter."

"I'm not here to force you to make up with your parents," Regina says in that soft voice she only uses with Henry, a voice that is starting to sound tired and worn and lonely.

"Then what are you doing here?" Because Emma always pushes with her; because maybe Emma is spoiling for a fight and Regina has never disappointed yet.

Regina stares at her, eyes dark and serious in the dim light, and Emma feels like she can't breathe. _Everything_ has changed so much, so fast, and it won't stop. Every time she thinks she has her feet firmly planted on the ground, some curve ball manages to find her and wreck it all over again. Even now, when she looks at Regina and wonders what it would feel like to touch her cheek, trace her fingers over soft skin. Her legs start to move restlessly, that old urge to run flaring up from her toes straight through her heart.

"I killed Greg's father," Regina says, and her voice changes to something deeper, dangerous. "I think that's why he took Henry."

"When did you kill him?" Emma asks, dropping her eyes and staring down at her hands, clenching them into fists.

"Soon after I cast the curse. Greg was…he was very young."

Emma blinks and tries to swallow, to breathe even though the air is so heavy. "Why did you do it?"

There's a soft laugh from Regina, scornful and sad. "Does it matter?"

"Yes." Then Emma sighs. "No. I—I don't know, Regina. Why would you do something like that? Why would you take a kid's dad away from him?"

"Because I would never do something like that? Is that why you want to know?" Regina looks at her with that dark, dark gaze, and Emma wants to reach out and touch her all over again because it's not the same and yet, and yet it is.

"Don't do this, Regina," she says quietly. "Not right now."

"Do what? Talk about the truth?" And Emma remembers again how she could hate Regina, how cold and cruel this woman can be, how Regina always, _always_ goes in for the kill. "Maybe you'd be more interested if I told you about how I killed Graham."

That's a blow she wasn't expecting, and it steals the air from her lungs. "What?"

"You must have at least suspected." Regina's teeth flash in the growing darkness. "I killed him. Crushed his heart into dust."

It's too much because Emma _remembers_. She remembers the weeks after Graham died when Regina would sometimes get this look in her eyes, a terrifying sort of sadness that Emma forced herself not to think about, and she remembers Regina's heart in her hands and that smile on her face like she could finally breathe. Emma's fingers twitch; she could do it now, could cross the room and reach into Regina's chest and pull out a beating heart, and she knows Regina wouldn't stop her. But, no—_here, she's just Regina_—that can't be right, not when Emma can close her eyes and only see Regina's face and eyes shining with love, that love that burns so brightly for Henry.

But she can't, she just can't. Emma climbs out of her bunk and strides across the cabin; Regina watches her with wide eyes, lips trembling.

Pushing past her, Emma spits out, "Fuck you."

She slams the door closed behind her, looks across the deck, and there are her parents looking at her with matching hopeful smiles like they're expecting Emma to go to them like nothing is wrong.

It's too much, and she runs until she hits the opposite railing and there is only the ocean stretching out before her.

* * *

"Emma seems to be doing well with her lessons," Snow says quietly.

Regina's back stiffens at the sound, the magic gathering in her palms because Snow is behind her, and no matter how many times the word _family_ is bandied about, some things are still instinctual, a force of habit. Regina takes a deep breath and flexes her fingers before turning to face Snow.

"Yes. Emma is…very powerful," Regina replies, measuring out her words carefully. "Gaining control over her magic is proving challenging for her. But we've made progress."

"She hasn't actually talked about it much." Snow shoves her hands into her coat pockets and shakes her head. "To me, anyway. I think she's still angry. Because I didn't tell her about the baby."

Clenching her fingers into a fist, Regina bites the inside of her cheek and forces back all the words burning like acid on her tongue. Henry is _gone_ and Snow doesn't have to know what that is like, she never did because she _forgot_, and all Regina can see is Henry disappearing through a portal and Emma curled up in a dark cabin.

She can do it; she knows how, she remembers how it felt to hold Snow's heart in her hand, and it would be so _easy_—no. Not now, not anymore. Because Henry had believed in her and now he's gone and there's Emma and Regina is _trying_.

"She will forgive you," Regina finally says in a soft voice, and the magic bleeds out of her grasp until she can feel every pulse of her heart, and it's so heavy that she wants to crumble.

Snow smiles, just a little bit, and she asks, "Are you sure?"

So easy, so good, and she _wants_—but Henry and Emma and _trust_ and _safe _and a promise of _one day, maybe_….

"You are her mother." It's all Regina has left to give now. "She might be angry at the moment, but that won't last forever. And she loves you." _You would have been enough._ "We always forgive the ones we love."

Tears gather in Snow's eyes as she whispers, "I am sorry for what I did."

The words stretch out between them, meaningless and empty, and Regina can feel the exhaustion settling deep inside her bones. She breathes in and smiles, her mouth cold and cruel.

"I don't care," Regina tells her, relishing the way Snow flinches and shrinks until she is so small.

Regina turns back to the railing and looks out over the ocean that is dark and still.

* * *

Emma takes a long drink and glares down at the bottle in her hands. The alcohol burns its way down her throat, and considering the bad taste of what Hook had assured her is rum, she almost puts it to the side.

She doesn't, though, because she's already halfway to being drunk and she likes this warm floating feeling a whole lot more than anything else.

Of course, Regina chooses that moment to come stalking into the cabin, her eyes glinting dangerously in the late afternoon light.

"What the hell are you doing?" Regina snaps, hands on her hips.

Emma smirks and takes another long swallow before saying, "Getting drunk."

"Why?"

"Why not?" Emma says with a shrug of her shoulders.

Regina just glares at her, and really, Emma is tired of this shit. She is tired of secrets and magic and quests and heroes because all they've ever done is fucked her over, and for once, for once, Emma wants to be done with it.

"I talked to Gold," Emma says slowly, savoring the way Regina's expression shifts, from irritation to something like panic. Or fear. "About what happened with us in the mines."

She stops there and drinks some more of the rum. Regina is just staring at her, almost swaying on her feet, but Emma can't tell if that's because of the ship or what she said.

"You foolish girl," Regina hisses, and, okay, that's anger, and Emma clutches the bottle to her chest like it will protect her from Regina. "I _told_ you not to tell him anything."

"Yeah, well, I did," Emma snaps back. She surges up from the bunk, remembers that she has magic, and even if she doesn't have much control over it, she has power and that's something. "And he told me all this bullshit about how only true love can stop something that powerful. He said that maybe we're destined for each other or something like that, and—"

Emma stops talking because Regina just starts _laughing_, and Emma wonders if maybe this is the last straw to pushing Regina straight into Crazytown because the sounds coming out of her mouth are ugly and harsh and terrifying.

"I—just… Fuck, just shut up," Emma says as she shrinks back from Regina.

The laughter stops just as abruptly as it started. Regina smiles, her eyes dark, and she shakes her head.

"For once, dear, Gold has completely missed the mark," Regina says as she walks closer, sinking onto the bunk beside Emma and reaching over to tug the rum out of her hands. "Now, scoot over."

"Why?" Emma asks, letting the rum go.

Regina tilts the bottle to her lips and barely winces as she swallows. "Because I am much too sober to have this conversation with you. I assume you got this from Hook?"

"Yeah. It tastes like shit, but it's not like there are whole lot of other options," Emma says as she settles into the corner of the bunk. "So you think Gold is wrong?"

"You sound disappointed," Regina says, drinking a little more deeply from the bottle before passing it back to Emma.

"No, I'm not. It's just that—I thought all of you people believed in that sort of thing. You know, destiny and shit like that."

"Do you?"

Emma leans her head back against the wall behind her and sighs. "I don't know. I mean, Neal seemed to think that it was destiny or whatever that led to us meeting, but I've never really believed in it. I guess I don't like the idea."

She drinks a little from the bottle and hands it back over to Regina. Tapping her fingers against the dark glass, Regina pulls her legs up onto the bed and drinks.

"I'll be honest." Regina twists her hands in the loose sheets and says, "I don't particularly care about destiny. Whether or not it exists isn't something I concern myself with. I believe I am perfectly capable of making my own choices."

"But what if it is real? Do your choices even matter?" Emma asks quietly; she reaches out and pulls the bottle from Regina's hand.

"Aren't they? If your choices are what you wanted, does it matter if it's your destiny as well?"

"I don't know." Emma frowns and drinks some more of the rum. "I thought having magic would make all of this, you know, easier."

"I'm sure you've found by now that is far from true." Regina is studying her now, and Emma shifts uncomfortably under the weight of her gaze. "Your mother has been asking me about you."

Emma shakes her head and says, "We are not going to talk about this."

"You shouldn't be so hard on her," Regina says, her eyes soft as she takes the bottle from Emma and lifts it to her mouth.

"Yeah, I don't know why you keep pushing this, but I don't need you to tell me what to do. Just because you lost—" Emma snaps her mouth shut. "I just don't want to talk about it."

Regina shrugs her shoulders and passes the bottle back to Emma. As Emma closes her hand around it, her fingers brush Regina's. Emma stills, stares down at where their hands are touching, Regina's skin warm under her own, and it feels inevitable, the way Emma slowly slides her palm up, up, up to clasp Regina's wrist, pull her closer and closer until her hot breath skims Emma's cheek.

She takes one look at Regina's face, her parted lips, before leaning in and kissing her, so soft, so quiet. There's a small sound that catches in Regina's throat, and then it all shifts, changes, and Regina's tongue is dipping into Emma's mouth, their breasts pressing together through their thin shirts, and it's so much that Emma can barely breathe.

But she has to touch, to feel more of Regina's skin under her hands, so Emma pushes Regina's shirt up and presses her mouth Regina's stomach, the underside of her breast. Regina moans and rolls her hips up into Emma's, her fingers twisting in Emma's hair.

At the back of her mind, Emma knows that she's probably moving too fast, desperation urging her on, and the alcohol thrumming in her blood, but Regina looks up at her with dark, dark eyes and pulls her into a languid kiss as Emma slips leather pants off Regina's hips. Slipping her right hand down, Emma traces light circles around Regina's clit as she scrapes her teeth against Regina's neck, smirking at the way Regina squirms underneath her.

Emma slides down Regina's body, already impatient as she nudges Regina's legs further apart; she wraps her fingers around Regina's hips and presses in. The alcohol makes her sloppy, but it doesn't seem to bother Regina, if her soft gasps and trembling thighs are anything to go by. Closing her eyes, Emma sucks Regina's clit into her mouth.

"Emma, _fuck_," and that's enough for that ache, that _need_ to touch Regina to flare again.

Sitting up, Emma fumbles her shirt over her head and starts on her pants when she cracks her head on the wooden underside of the bunk above them.

It hurts and Emma mutters, "Shit."

The pain radiates through her head, and Emma presses her fingers against it gingerly, hissing when that only makes it worse. Then there are warm hands on her shoulders, pulling her down until she is pressed against Regina.

"Perhaps I should be on top," Regina says with a slight smirk as she kisses the corner of Emma's mouth.

Frowning, Emma turns her head enough to slide her lips over Regina's. Her head still aches, but as Regina parts her mouth around a sigh and slips her fingers past the waistband of Emma's pants, Emma decides to ignore it. Especially when Regina's fingers slip between her legs

And somewhere in there, when Emma has two fingers inside Regina, lips tracing a path along her collarbone, she glances up, and _fuck_, Regina is so beautiful and so small, and this might be the worst idea Emma's ever had, but it doesn't matter, not right now.

Not when Regina gasps out her name and comes undone, her eyes wide as she stares up at Emma.

Not when she curls her fingers inside Emma, and Emma crushes her mouth against Regina's as she bucks her hips and comes, panting as she slumps into Regina's arms.

It doesn't matter because instead of slipping out of the bed and leaving Emma with the half-empty bottle of rum, Regina twines her fingers with Emma's and lays them over her heart. _Safe._


End file.
